Overland Tales
by Bionic Egypt
Summary: TWOSHOT The children of Burgess want the Overlands to tell them a story. What will Jack come up with and how will his sister add to it?
1. Jack's Tale

**To all of you who actually believe in ghosts and spirits and such, I truly apologize if I offend you with my explanation of them in this. I don't believe in ghosts, so I just came up with something. It made sense to me, but it's probably not the actual description of them. So again, I'm sorry if any of you don't like how I described them. Just please try to enjoy **_**Jack's Tale**_**.**

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Jack's Tale

"Jack! Jack! Tell us a story!" a sudden hoard of children demanded, surrounding the seventeen year old boy instantly.

"Alright," he smirked, sitting down on a log in front of them. The kids dropped to the ground, waiting to hear what Jackson Overland came up with this time.

"What kind of story do you want?" he asked. "Maybe you guys would like a story about an evil wizard and a pirate?"

"No," they chorused, shaking their little heads.

"Okay . . . how about one with a brave knight and a fierce dragon?" Jack tried. Again, the children said no. Jack tossed around a few more ideas until the perfect one came to him.

"Let me tell you a tale about winter," Jack started. "Not the season, but the spirit."

"Like a ghost?" a little girl asked, clearly frightened by the idea of a ghostly figure.

"Not exactly," Jack smiled. "See, ghosts are just the souls of people who are still here, but spirits have a purpose. This is the tale of the spirit of winter."

"What do they look like?" a small boy asked quickly before Jack could begin the story.

"Well, he's not much older than I am, in appearances at least. His hair is the color of moonlight, his eyes bluer than the summer sky, and his skin is paler than death," Jack decided.

"He sounds scary," Emma Overland, Jack's little sister, whispered. Jack smiled at her.

"He's not scary at all. In fact, he's the most fun spirit out there! He can create snow just by thinking about it, and with one touch of his hand, frost can cover anything he wants it to. His best friend is the wind, who lets him fly as high up as he wants to go, any time of the day."

"What's his name?" one boy asked.

"Frost," Jack said after a second's thought. "His name is Frost, because that's what he creates the most. Wherever he steps, frost forms. He can also make ice, but he doesn't do that very often."

"Why not?"

"Because people might get hurt if there's too much ice," Jack explained. "Ice can be fun to skate on, but when there's too much people could slip and they might break something. Frost is a trickster, not a monster."

"Are you sure Frost isn't just you?" Emma giggled.

"I'm offended you think that," he joked. "No, Frost isn't me. I'm human; Frost is a spirit that can control the force of winter! It would be cool to be Frost though."

"Has Frost ever gone on an adventure?" one of the children asked.

"He has, actually. Once, long ago, Frost met the Easter Bunny . . ." Jack began, launching into a tale about how Frost and the Easter Bunny managed to save a whole country from an evil spirit, the Boogeyman. After Jack finished the story, one of the children asked him a question.

"Is the Boogeyman real?"

"Yes," Jack answered automatically. "But you know how to get rid of him? Have fun. Fun is the opposite of fear. As long as you're having fun, the Boogeyman can't get you. I'd tell you another story, but your parents are waiting over there, so I think it's time for you to go home."

As the children rushed over to their respective parents, chattering all about Frost and the Easter Bunny, Jack started to walk home with Emma in tow. The eight year old started shivering a bit, so Jack wrapped one arm around her shoulder to warm her up.

Along the way, Emma looked up at her older brother. "Are you sure Frost isn't you?"

"I'm sure kiddo," Jack grinned. "In fact, I know so. I've met Frost before."

"You have?!" Emma exclaimed in surprise. "When? What happened? Did he tell you the story about him and the Easter Bunny?!"

As they walked home, Emma pestering her brother with question after question, neither sibling noticed the single ray of moonlight that fell across their path. Everything would change drastically in just a few short months, but in that moment, nothing could hurt the Overland children.

Not even the Boogeyman.

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**There was the first part! Again, sorry if you didn't like the ghost/spirit explanation, but it's what I thought up. Thanks for reading!**

**~C**


	2. Emma's Tale

**This is the second –and last –part of **_**Overland Tales!**_** So, a few years have passed (read: nine) since the last chapter. Emma is now seventeen. Jack has been dead nine years. Emma isn't depressed about it, but she still thinks about her brother often, especially when she tells a story. And that's where we start off at! Enjoy **_**Emma's Tale**_**.**

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Emma's Tale

"Emma! Emma! Tell us a story!" a large group of children pleaded, rushing toward the seventeen year old girl. Emma laughed before sitting down in front of the demanding little hoard, waiting for them to do the same.

"What kind of story?" she asked. "Should I tell one about a princess and a bandit?"

"No," the children chorused.

"Okay then. What about a story with a knight and a dragon?" Emma tried. Again, the children said no. After several more suggestions, one of the small children raised his hand timidly.

"Yes Michael?" Emma smiled. Maybe the kids would like his story idea.

"My brother told me about a story he heard when he was my age," Michael said. "Can you tell us about winter?"

Emma's heart stopped for a second before it resumed its continual pattern. She had forgotten all about the winter story until Michael mentioned it. That had been Jack's favorite tale to tell. He had told her all about the winter spirit and his adventures. Emma remembered enough of the tales to create one of her own, though.

"Let me tell you a tale about winter," Emma began just as Jack has a dozen times. "Not the season, but the spirit."

"Like a ghost?" a tiny girl whispered in fright. Emma remembered someone else asking that same question the first time Jack has told the story.

"Not exactly," Emma assured her. "The spirit of winter isn't a ghost. He's a boy my age made of pure magic, given life by the moon itself."

"What does he look like?" Michael asked.

"His hair is as white as snow, his eyes bluer than the summer sky, and his skin paler than frost on the windows," Emma described.

"He doesn't sound very nice," one girl commented. "He sounds cold."

"He is cold," Emma told her, even though she remembered saying something very close to that when Jack first told her about the winter spirit. "He's the spirit of winter! But he's not mean at all."

_Would I trick you?_

"He's always playing tricks . . ."

_We'll have a little fun instead_.

". . . But he loves to have fun."

_Do I have to wear those?_

"He doesn't wear shoes . . ."

_A new cape? Wow thanks!_

" . . . But he does wear a frost covered cape made of the darkest brown."

_One . . . two . . . three!_

"He always carries around a tall wooden staff that helps him control his powers."

"What powers?!" the children questioned loudly, loud enough to make the few adults nearby listen in on the tale. They remembered the girl's brother telling a story much similar to this one a long time ago.

"He can create snow whenever he wants, even in the middle of summer! Frost spreads everywhere he touches, creating beautiful fern-like patterns. He can also make ice, but he doesn't do that very often. If there's too much ice, people could get hurt."

"Does he do anything else?"

_I'd love to fly, just ride on the wind like the birds_.

"He rides on the wind, his greatest friend," Emma smiled softly. "She carries him wherever he wants to go, any time of the day."

"What's his name?" a little girl asked.

"Frost," Emma said. "His name is Jack Frost."

The adults who had been listening to the tale along with the children started to tear up. Jack Frost. Emma was trying to bring her brother back in a story, it seemed like. And none of the children would ever know.

"Have you met Jack Frost?"

Emma smiled sadly at the children. "I have, actually. It was a long time ago. I was about the same age as all of you. He saved my life once, but that's a story for tomorrow. Now go on; your parents are waiting." She gestured to the growing crowd of adults for emphasis.

As the children ran off, babbling about the tale she had told them, Emma glanced up at the full moon shining overhead. A single tear fell from her eye even as she smiled.

"I hope you liked the story, Jack," she whispered sadly before walking home.

Unknown to her, a pale boy with snow white hair was watching her with a grin on his face.

"Thanks," he smiled. "I really enjoyed it."

The wind tossed the snow into the air as he left, a comforting chill marking the place he had been.

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**And this has been the conclusion to Overland Tales. Believe it or not I actually wrote this one first before deciding to add on to it and write the previous chapter. I hope you liked it, though. Thanks for reading!**

**~C**


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